Re: [Round Two] Cursed Dancers of Colbeck
At first, Mark dodged the blows with an expertise he didn't know he had, probably due to the shoes he still wore from earlier. As he happened to look up at his foe, he became quite puzzled. Instead of one enemy, the man had split into several in little time. "How did you do manage to do that without a potion?" Mark demanded.
"Potions? This is all me, I call it Shadow Energy. It is like magic, but is more like part of my body; it allows me to run completely off of shadows..." Mark stopped listening at this point. Damn magic! I hate it! I hate it! Mark took a deep breath, controlling the spoiled child inside his mind just as a blinding light filled his eyes. The lights suspended over the wooden stage flashed on, causing him to lose sight temporarily. He blinked rapidly, just in time to see Keldar coming at him, katana ready to split him in half.
Mark jumped back, watching the enemy move at a faster speed than his eyes could follow. He cracked the whip angrily at Keldar hoping to slow him, a sneer upon his face. This wasn’t supposed to take this long.
The enemy had the full chance to inflict some damage, and yet he failed. Suddenly, the face of the opponent became revealed in a quick flip of the man's hood. Yes, Mark had been correct in age, the man certainly seemed young. Now, however; was not the time to think of such things.
Snap! Mark pulled back on the whip, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut, blood spattering the floor from the multiple nicks on the man's face. "You should see what it does to your back," Mark said, grinning in spite of feeling slightly sorry.
The bleeding man came at Mark with a downwards slash, obviously angered at that comment. Thrusting his whip forward in a sudden desperate motion, Mark met the sword, the Screamer wrapping around the blade as if it were trying to choke off the air supply of the weapon. The scientist pulled hard on the Screamer, reeling in his opponent like a fish on a line. At the same time, Keldar began to pull as well, and it turned into match of strength.
He felt the whip being loosened from his grip. What? He’s taking it from me? No. I will not allow this! He reached a hand forward, grabbing his own weapon and heaving back, successfully unwrapping the two while sneaking a leg behind the opponent’s. It was easy enough, since they were closely bonded for a moment. Sweeping the leg back, he made Keldar fall; through when he tried to inflict the whip upon him, the man simply rolled aside, avoiding the stinging bite of the shards of glass by inches once more. The whip broke through the wooden stage with a crack, the wood beginning to groan.
“Why would you do that?” Keldar asked, eyeing Mark’s hand, which was now bleeding from the loss of small strips of flesh. In his eyes, it must have seemed a foolish act, actively wounding oneself for possible victory.
“No one takes my weapon. No one,” Mark replied, growing softly at the opponent. “The Screamer is mine, and mine alone. No one may ever wield it.” He noticed something, though. He felt an almost soggy substance in his right sock and when he examined it closer, he noticed a large gash in his leg. Damn it! He cursed silently. He wouldn’t have even noticed had it not been for the strange wet feeling. He had to finish this quickly before he grew too weak.